After the Kolkata chaos, can India be trusted to host global sports icons?
The Kolkata event that was meant to celebrate Lionel Messi’s legacy instead became a cautionary tale. What should have been a carefully curated, high-security appearance by one of the world’s most recognisable athletes descended into confusion, overcrowding, and last-minute improvisation.
Viral videos on social media platforms of fans breaching barricades, disorderly movement around venues, and organisers struggling to regain control quickly went viral. For a country that prides itself on sporting passion and scale, the Messi event in Kolkata was a failure of planning, coordination, and accountability, not enthusiasm.
This was not an unforeseeable problem. Messi’s global appeal is unmatched; his mere presence guarantees mass turnout. Yet the event appeared to underestimate crowd behaviour, overestimate on-ground preparedness, and blur the lines between public celebration and controlled access. The result was not just embarrassment but a serious safety risk, to fans, staff, and the icon himself. When an event involving a global sports figure spirals into chaos, the implications stretch far beyond one city or one organiser.
Kolkata was not an exception, it was a warning
To dismiss the Kolkata chaos as a one-off would be convenient, but it would also be dishonest. India’s history of hosting major sporting events is dotted with moments where passion overwhelmed planning. From crowd surges outside stadiums to delayed starts, last-minute venue changes, and inadequate security cordons, similar red flags have surfaced repeatedly across sports and cities.
The underlying issue is structural. Too often, event planning in India treats crowd size as a badge of honour rather than a variable to be managed. Bigger is equated with better, even when infrastructure and security capacity remain unchanged. This mindset leads to predictable outcomes: overwhelmed entry points, poor communication between agencies, and confusion on the ground. In Kolkata, those weaknesses were amplified by Messi’s presence, exposing just how fragile the system becomes under global scrutiny.
Another recurring problem is fragmented responsibility. Events of this scale involve private organisers, state authorities, police, venue managers, and sponsors. When roles are unclear and accountability diluted, failures become inevitable. In Kolkata, the absence of a visible, unified command structure was striking. Decisions appeared reactive rather than planned, with authorities scrambling to control a situation that should never have spiralled in the first place. There is also a cultural hesitation to impose firm limits. Restricting access, enforcing barricades, or cancelling segments for safety reasons is often seen as anti-fan. But global sporting nations understand that fan experience begins with safety. In India, safety measures are still too often treated as negotiable, secondary to optics and hype.
The cost of chaos
The real damage from the Kolkata episode lies in perception. Global sports icons operate within tightly regulated ecosystems. Their teams, insurers, clubs, and federations assess risk with clinical precision. For them, viral visuals of chaos are not emotional moments; they are data points. Each mismanaged event feeds into a growing question: is India a reliable host for high-profile, non-cricket sporting engagements?
This matters because global sport today is as much about image as infrastructure. Countries compete to host icons, exhibitions, and mega-events not just for ticket sales, but for soft power and global branding. India has invested heavily in projecting itself as a modern, capable host, from upgraded stadiums to international tournaments. But trust is fragile. One poorly handled event can undo years of effort.
There is also a commercial cost. Sponsors and international partners seek predictability. They want assurance that timelines will be respected, access controlled, and reputational risk minimised. Chaos discourages investment. If India becomes associated with unpredictability outside the IPL’s tightly managed bubble, opportunities will shift elsewhere, to markets that may lack India’s scale but offer consistency.
Crucially, this is not a question of capability. India has successfully hosted complex, high-security events, including cricket World Cups, G20 summits, and major international tours. The issue is uneven standards. While marquee, centrally managed events receive world-class planning, one-off exhibitions and celebrity appearances often fall through regulatory cracks. That inconsistency is what erodes trust.
The lesson from Kolkata is uncomfortable but necessary. Passion alone cannot carry global sport. Admiration for icons like Messi must be matched by respect for the protocols that protect them. Without clear planning, enforceable limits, and single-point accountability, India risks turning celebration into chaos, and chaos into reputation damage.
The question, then, is not whether India deserves to host global sports icons. It is whether India is willing to do the unglamorous work required to earn that trust every single time. Until that answer is an unequivocal yes, Kolkata will not be remembered as an anomaly, but as a warning India chose to ignore.
